Unmasked
by Naril
Summary: Eames is a conman. He knows and accepts the risks this brings, has told Ariadne so many times in the beginnings of their relationship. What he did not count on is someone taking revenge on the only family he has in the world.
1. Chapter 1

_This is the sequel to Masks and the other one-shots linked with it. It is also my first proper multi-chaptered fic in this fandom. Admittedly the title is not particularly creative, but don't judge it by its cover. _

**_Disclaimer: Chris Nolan owns everything!_**

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><p>Steve McAllen was a man of habit. His house was a semi-detached house that looked like every other one in the street and since his wife left him soon after his military career had failed, it was far too big to be comfortable, yet he chose to live there because it was easier.<p>

He also had a glass of whiskey with a drop of water every night before going to bed, ever since then. He would go into his study, look at the photos of his children (who had left him with their mother) and contemplate anything and everything.

So when he entered his study that evening, he certainly did not expect his chair behind the desk to be occupied. He also did not expect the man to be playing nonchalantly with his very own gun, which was supposed to be locked up in a safe in his bedroom.

He froze, the glass of whiskey halfway to his mouth.

"It's nice to finally catch up with you Mr. McAllen." The man drawled; head cocked slightly to the side like a predator waiting to attack. He did not look particularly dangerous in appearance what with the slightly worse for wear tweed jacket and pastel-coloured shirt, but the look on his face promised nothing good.

"I'm sorry, am I supposed to know you?" The ex-army general asked, the vague twang of an Edinburgh accent still there despite his two decades of living in Reading.

"Not if I did my job right." The man's smile was positively shark-like, his gray eyes icy as they met his. "You see, I am what you might call an expert in dreaming."

Almost instantly the alarm bells in McAllen's head started ringing. His eyes darted around the room, but the only weapon there was, was the gun the stranger now very calmly placed on the desk in front of him, the barrel pointing right at his gut.

"How did you find me?" He found himself asking, whiskey-glass forgotten in his hand.

The man had pulled out a red poker-chip from his pocket, rolling it over his knuckles in a practiced manner. The smile was still there, turning into a warped smirk. "Easy enough since you didn't cover your tracks properly. You should really never sign with your real name for anything to do with your dummy corporations."

McAllen swallowed, but accepted it. So he had not exactly been thorough, but really, he had been sure Waverley would have done away with the whole affair by now.

"If you're wondering about your partner, I guess you should know that the police are still keeping his body under lockdown. They suspect he was involved in drug shipping." The stranger seemed to have read his mind.

"Mr. Eames, is it?" He finally found his voice again and took a careful sip of his tumbler, shifting his eyes to contemplate the golden colour of the liquid.

The man nodded, the poker-chip still slipping through nimble fingers as if he was not threatening a man in his own home but having a casual conversation of no immediate importance. He seemed to be studying the photos on display on the desk and he did not like that one bit.

"How did you get my gun?" It was not what he had meant to ask, there were too many questions racing through his mind right now, none of them particularly useful. These years as a civilian had made him soft.

Icy slate-coloured eyes slid back to his. He looked almost bored, the poker-chip caught between two fingers and then disappearing back into a pocket. "If you had done your homework, you would have found why the MI6 was so interested in pulling me into their operations. I don't only steal information out of people's heads."

While McAllen still scrambled to say something coherent, knowing that there was very little chance of him making it out of this alive, the stranger, or rather, Eames, picked up a photo of his three children and wife taken in happier days.

"You had a lovely family." He remarked as if he was talking about the weather, deliberately using the past tense, "And two daughters I see." When he looked up again, his eyes were no longer cold, but burning with a barely controlled rage that made McAllen's skin crawl.

"Listen, Waverley had the idea. I just…" He started to say, just to say anything at all, but Eames was having none of it.

"I don't particularly care who had the idea." He told him, voice a low growl, "I care about what happened."

McAllen started to sweat when the man's hand fell onto the desk, right next to the handle of the gun.

"You knew what was happening. You went along with it." The hand retreated as Eames leant back in the chair adopting an air of relaxation when his expression clearly spoke otherwise. He was tapping his fingers on the handles, the sound clearly deliberate, adding to the tension already in the room.

McAllen, felt more and more like he was playing with him, like a cat would with a mouse.

"I mean I knew the two of you were a bunch of bastards for trying to sell out your own bloody country, but this…" He did not finish the sentence, just shook his head, fixing him with a glare.

"As if you were any better." McAllen abruptly downed the rest of his whiskey, relishing the burn of the alcohol. He tightly gripped the glass and ignored the mildly quizzical look the other man adopted.

"I know you will kill me." He began, and then paused, staring the other man right in the eyes. "How many have you killed before? How many lives have you destroyed?"

He vaguely noted that though Eames had not moved from his position, there was a new tension in his body, hands clenching into fists slowly. "What makes you deserve any semblance of a family when I lost mine?" He carried on nonetheless.

He had not even finished speaking when Eames' eyes narrowed dangerously. In the silence followed by his statement, McAllen vaguely wondered if the numbness in his body was due to the alcohol entering his blood, or if it was the knowledge that there was no way out of this situation.

Perhaps it was what he had wanted all along when he had agreed to Waverley's plan, or even earlier when they had gone after whoever had stolen the information about their betrayal in their sleep; when they had killed this man's partner in a bloodbath.

"This is not about family." The other man's dark comment shook him out of his thoughts. "This is about destroying the life of an innocent little girl."

Almost casually, Eames sat up straighter and picked up the gun, studying its polished surface in the dim light. "You see, you could have just taken me out. Very few people would have shed a tear."

McAllen could not help but look away when the cold gaze zeroed in on him again. "Only, you didn't and now I'm here to make you pay for what you've done."

He clicked off the safety of the weapon, eyes still locked firmly in those of his would-be victim. "It's really easy enough. By the end of this, you will wish you had never laid a finger on my daughter and my body-count will simply have increased by one." He cocked the gun and fired with barely a seconds warning.

McAllen felt like he had been punched in the gut. The empty glass in his hand slipped through his unfeeling fingers and shattered on the carpet. He gulped, eyes dropping from the smouldering satisfaction in the other man's eyes to his middle, seeing the crimson soak the old shirt he was wearing.

The world tilted and he weakly tried to grasp at the bookcase next to him to keep himself upright, but it was no use and he awkwardly collapsed against it, the pain increasing to an agonising burning sensation that made him gasp.

Through this haze he watched Eames push back the chair and walk around the desk to crouch down in front of him, gun hanging from his hand. "This will take a while." He informed him, the callous smile back in place.

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><p><em>TBC... <em>

_Would love some feedback!_


	2. Chapter 2

_Thanks for my two lovely reviewers. Anyone else out there still feeling shy, I would be really grateful for some feedback (constructive of course XP) _

_This chapter is chronologically before the first one just in case it's a little confusing._

_**Disclaimer:** as in first chapter: I own zip, zero_

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><p>The call came in the middle of a meeting for the job they were working in Vienna. Arthur glared as Eames pulled out the blaring phone from his pocket and checked the caller-ID.<p>

Ariadne, who had been standing by her model, explaining her newest creation turned just in time to see the Forger go deathly pale before he got to his feet, nearly knocking his chair over and answered the phone on his way out.

When the door banged behind him, she turned to an equally confused Point Man who after a moment shrugged and flicked his eyes at the door, indicating that she should take care of it.

She rolled her eyes at him, never appreciating the little signs that he disapproved of the relationship between her and the Forger, but because she was worried did eventually make her way towards the door.

As she stepped outside, she realised that there was no sign of their teammate. She walked around the corner of the warehouse, finding a secluded area between buildings just in time to find Eames end the call and lean heavily against the wall behind to him. He looked sick and as if he might collapse at any moment.

He did not even acknowledge her arrival, just stared blankly into space, something that settled a heavy weight in the pit of her stomach.

"What's wrong?" It was all she could think to ask, because his hand fiddling with the poker chip he always carried was shaking, the other was sliding unconsciously to where she knew he kept his gun in the back of the waistband of his slacks. He had taken to carrying it more often than not, after they had run into too many tight spots without having one handy.

The knot in her gut grew even tighter.

Grey eyes flicked up to meet hers as if he only then realised she was there. Abruptly he dropped the hand that had been checking if his gun was still in place. He opened his mouth as if to say something, then stopped himself and slid the hand with the chip back into his pocket and pushed away from the wall.

She stepped closer, reaching out a hand to grasp his, feeling it tremble still. He held on tightly, but still did not look at her.

"Hey." The architect reached up with her free hand to cup his cheek and turn his face towards her. For a few seconds there was panic in his gaze, a fear she had never seen before.

"Daniel?" She used the name deliberately, because she only called him by his given name when they were alone. "You're scaring me."

Almost as soon as the words left her mouth, the shutters slammed shut over the emotion in his eyes, face turning blank with only the muscle twitching in his jaw giving him away. She wished he would not still do that but also knew it was a knee-jerk reaction.

"I need to get a flight to London." He said, voice strangely detached and void of feeling. With that he made to walk away, hand slipping from hers.

"Wait…what?" She gripped at his fingers before she lost hold of them completely and stood firm. Granted he could easily shake her off, her strength really nothing compared to his, but he stopped in his tracks anyway, head lowered in defeat.

She knew him well enough now, to recognise the tension in his shoulders and after he took a deep breath he turned to face her again.

This time the shields were all but gone, leaving her reeling from the grief he allowed her to see.

"They found her." He told her, this time the words sounded broken and pained.

Ariadne's eyes widened, knowing whom he was talking about instantly, because there was only one person that would bring out this kind of reaction from him.

"How?" She whispered, her own voice cracking.

"I don't know." He sighed, the shaking was back and she only then realised that he had contained it until then. "They called me from her mum's landline."

The architect was frozen as she watched the panic flood back into his eyes. "I have to find her." She had never seen him like this and when he made to pull away again, it shocked her out of her state of shock.

She let go of his hand and instead caught his face between both of hers. "I know!" She told him, "I know and I promise we will, but getting yourself killed is not the way to go about it, okay?"

He stared at her for a moment, eyes searching hers as if for an answer. When he blinked, some of his old self had returned, control flooding back and she let out a breath she had not known she had been holding.

"Okay." He breathed, still focused on her eyes to keep himself grounded. "Okay." He repeated and she let go of him, only to grab his shaky hand again to maintain the physical contact.

"You have to tell Arthur. He can track them." She told him and tried to smile reassuringly only was convinced it turned out as a grimace. He nodded mutely, looking down at where her fingers were interlinking with his calloused ones, then back up at her with an expression she recognised all too well.

"Promise me you won't do anything stupid." She added, seriously. As soon as Eames looked away, she tugged at his hand a little forcefully. "Promise me or I will take that gun of yours and shoot you in the knee so you can't go in there blindly!"

Any other day, he would have laughed at the threat. But it was not any other day and he had just received a call that someone had kidnapped his little daughter.

"I promise." It was only a strangled whisper and it brought tears to Ariadne's eyes. So she threw herself at him, arms wrapping around his waist and hugged his rigid body, because she could not think of anything else to do to comfort him.

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><p>TBC<p>

_Review?_


	3. Chapter 3

_Alright, finally managed to put up an update. Sorry it took so long. Time before Christmas is taking its toll. Enjoy:_

_Disclaimer: I do not own anything... anything. _

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><p>If Ariadne were to guess, she would say the only thing that had caught Arthur off-guard was the fact that Eames had managed to keep the fact that he had a seven-year old daughter who he sent money to regularly from ever turning up in his research.<p>

He was however, very ready to help and immediately went to call any contacts that would be of use. He pulled out his phone and went as far as patting the older man on the shoulder reassuringly after he gave her an encouraging nod. Then he was off dialling numbers and typing away on his laptop.

Eames for his part had not moved from his spot on the rickety office chair she had made him sit in. He was once again playing with the red poker chip as if his life depended on it. His head propped up by his other hand he was staring at the light breaking through the dust-covered windows.

The architect was not sure how to approach him since for now all they could do was wait, and so let him be. She was leaning against the table next to him, biting her lip and remembering the little girl she had met only once; the bouncy chestnut hair, the innocent smile and her father's sharp eyes.

"Have I told you that I had to sneak into the hospital so that I could see her when she was born?" He suddenly addressed her without looking up, his gaze still faraway.

Ariadne could not help the sad smile that tugged on her lips then, because it sounded so very much like him to do that. "No, you haven't."

He smiled as well, as if the memory was playing out in front of his eyes in that moment. "Her mum had told me only because she said she needed my money. She had not expected me to want to see the kid, so when I asked she refused."

He paused and the smile grew into a shadow of the mischievous grin she knew so well. "So, I snuck in there as soon as I had heard that she had given birth and bribed one of the nurses to let me see her."

Behind her, Ariadne heard Arthur fight with someone on the phone about owing him a favour, and then got to his feet to walk out of the warehouse while still arguing but she ignored it.

"I don't even know why I cared so much. I just couldn't get over the fact that I might have done something right for once, that there was a part of me in all this..." He trailed off, "I don't know."

Suddenly he did look at her and she had to gulp when she found his eyes glazed over with what looked like tears threatening to escape. "She was so tiny and wrinkly. If the nurse had not insisted, I would not have touched her, I was afraid to break her…" His voice broke.

In an instant she was there, wrapping her arms around him, like she had outside, only this time when he pulled her closer hastily, she ended up awkwardly in his lap. He hid his face in her shoulder and she lifted an arm to drape around his neck, holding him in place.

"She'll be okay. She'll be okay and we'll find her. Arthur will find her. Trust me." She kept whispering and he nodded against the fabric of her shirt, even though neither of them quite believed it in that moment.

The architect swallowed hard, because she could tell from the tension he radiated that he was struggling to stay in control, knew by the way he was digging his fingers into her back, that whoever had done this was in for more than they could handle.

She only hoped the little girl really would be okay when they found her. The rational side of her doubted it.

They stayed like this, until the backdoor of the warehouse opened again. Immediately, Eames lifted her to her feet and got up himself. He gave her hand a quick squeeze and then looked expectantly at Arthur, face void of emotion once again.

The Point Man looked a little bemused, having still caught a glimpse of their previous position, but made no comment except for the raised eyebrow he shot Ariadne.

He turned to meet the Forger's expectant look. "I got hold of a contact in Surrey and he says there has been a reported break-in and murder at the address you gave me."

Eames' jaw clenched and beside him Ariadne held onto his hand a little tighter.

"He is digging through the police-work as we speak for anything they found but the investigation has only just started. I do suggest we get there as soon as we can to see if they missed anything." Arthur continued, all business even though his eyes conveyed sympathy for the other man.

"Any clues about who might be behind it?" Eames shrugged it off, and asked instead.

"There is a vague notion it may have been professionals, because the killing was execution style. The police doubt it though, because the victim is not known to have any criminal contacts." The Point Man lowered his gaze at the last few words, since all of them knew that that clearly was not the case.

"So there's nothing?"

"Not exactly." Arthur went to his laptop and turning it so they could see, pulled up a window that showed a map of an area near the outskirts of South London. "Another of my contacts heard about people known in our business set up there just yesterday, so a day before the break-in. He is checking for activity as we speak."

"Sutton? Isn't that a little far from where they live?" Ariadne asked, as she stepped closer to get a better look at the laptop screen.

"No it isn't." Eames threw in who stayed where he was, apparently not needing to see the map up close. "It's just far enough to not likely be linked, but it is still a possibility." He searched Arthur's gaze. "I take it it's also our best bet?"

The Point Man nodded. "They're also old friends of yours, which makes it even more likely." He added carefully.

The Forger narrowed his eyes, his expression promising nothing good. "Who?"

"Martin Waverly and McAllen."

Ariadne had never heard these names before, but the way Eames paled again and cursed severely under his breath showed her all she needed to know.

"Who are they?" She asked when both men stayed silent after that. Arthur chanced a glance at the Forger who just raked a hand through his hair and started pacing.

"They're former military who had been discharged on suspicion of selling tactical information to the highest bidder. There was no open trial, no hard evidence, but the judge was pretty convinced." The Point Man explained. "There were a lot of rumours at the time that it was someone in our field who had found them out."

Eames was still pacing, but shot him a look and something that might have been a smirk in other circumstances. "How did you figure I had anything to do with it?"

Arthur just shrugged. "The time fits with your records I found in the SAS database. And they _were_ the ones who took out your partner."

The Forger only nodded, barely a twitch at the memory visible on his features. It was not the time to think about it. "They're the reason I left." He quietly informed them, more for Ariadne's benefit than Arthur's it seemed.

He held her gaze, one hand again gliding into his pocket to finger his totem. She had never seen him check it so often. "They were out for blood and so I dropped off the radar. Less legitimate, but alive."

He finally did come over to look at the computer screen. "Let's book a flight over there while we wait for your contact to call you back."

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><p><em>TBC (hopefully sooner this time)<em>

_Reviews would be adored!_


	4. Chapter 4

_Another Update! Merry Christmas everyone! Hopefully I can get another update in before New Years, not sure though. For now enjoy this chappy!_

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><p>"You are not going in alone!" Ariadne's voice rang through the whole safe house. It was only the two of them at the moment, so she could not bring herself to care.<p>

Arthur had organised it in a part of London called New Malden that she had never heard about before. It was a normal family house with three bedrooms, except that one of them was currently filled with ammunition and illegal guns.

The Point Man had just left with his contact, an unremarkable man who called himself Riley. They were going to scout the hideout of the suspected kidnappers.

Riley had confirmed that there had been activity there ever since an unmarked white van had pulled up and been let through the large doors. The same van had been seen near the address Eames had given them.

There was no co-incidence in all this, especially considering the fact that two of the men really were the ones Arthur had mentioned and that there were signs of someone being kept in there.

Eames was sitting on the bed in front of her, checking the barrel of the assault rifle he had been cleaning. "It's not up for discussion." He said simply and did not even look at her.

"What? I can handle myself! There's only three of us as it is! If Arthur's contact is right there are at least ten of them!" She was pacing in front of him while he reassembled the gun with practiced ease and loaded it.

"Ten well-trained thugs who will be armed to the teeth because they're expecting me." He threw back and set the weapon aside. "Pardon me if I think it might be a little too much to handle for a girl who has only started training little more than a year ago."

She had stopped pacing, her hands clenched into fists at her side. "You and Arthur taught me. That's got to count for something." She knew it sounded petulant now and so did he, because the ghost of a smile appeared on his features.

"It does, but it still doesn't mean you can throw yourself into danger like that." He told her.

She was biting her lip again. "You remember what happened the last time I let you go off like that by yourself?"

Eames let out a heavy sigh. "Yes, I do."

"Then why do you insist on putting me through that again?" Her voice had softened considerably.

His eyes flicked up to hers for a second then away, calculating. He fidgeted and licked his lips. "Look, I've got Arthur with me, alright? You asked me not to do anything stupid…" She made to interrupt him and he held up a hand stopping her, "and now I'm asking the same from you."

Ariadne swallowed the lump in her throat with difficulty. "Please don't ask me to stay behind." She whispered, tonelessly.

The Forger froze in his movement where he was reaching for a small handgun he had laid out next to the bigger rifle and looked up at her. When he saw the fear in her eyes, a muscle twitched in his jaw, the only indication that his nerves were being worn down by the conversation.

He moved the weapons aside to make room next to him and patted the mattress without meeting her gaze. "Sit." He ordered, tone tense but as gentle as he could manage.

When she did and refused to look at him, he grasped both her hands in his. "Why are you so stubborn? Can't you understand that there are two things in the world..." He broke off with a heavy sigh, not having the strength to argue with her and focus on the rescue of his daughter at the same time.

She was looking at their hands, resolutely avoiding his eyes; afraid it might persuade her into giving in. "I understand. I do." She muttered, stroking her small thumbs over the back of his hands.

"But you need to see that I feel exactly the same about you and to think that I could do something to protect you but you won't let me…" She did look up then, never finishing the sentence.

"Don't give me that look." This time it was his turn to look away.

"I'm not some damsel that needs to be kept safe! I promise I will take the rear but please," She grabbed a fist-full of his shirt to make him look at her, her patience wearing thin, "please let me watch your back!"

He glanced at her from the corner of his eyes and she knew he was trying not to cave.

"Fine." He blurted after another moment and got up, turning his back on her. She watched him hesitate a little longer, then grab two small submachine guns from where they had been lying on the desk next to the handguns.

Ariadne recognised them for the model he had introduced her to first when she had moved from normal handguns to submachine guns. She still was not sure she wanted to know where he and Arthur had managed to get this arsenal.

He placed both of them next to her on the bed along with the ammunition for them. "You take the two UZI's, your little beretta, as much ammo as you can and stay behind us." He was still not looking at her.

She nodded. Downstairs the door slammed and there was the sound of footsteps on the stairs. Neither of them was alarmed, recognising who it was even before the Point Man entered.

"I've checked the place out. Shouldn't be too hard." He stated in lieu of a greeting, then after a short pause, "They're definitely holding someone who fits your description."

"You saw her?" Ariadne could not help but exclaim, while Eames just nodded numbly. He did not want to hear this, she could tell as he turned back to the small handgun he had earlier meant to pick up and checked it over.

The architect grabbed Arthur by the sleeve, leaving him alone in the room while he busied himself by attaching a silencer to the weapon and turning back to the desk.

Once outside, she stopped. "You saw her?" She hissed again.

Arthur glanced over her shoulder into the open doorway before nodding. "They've got her in a backroom." He gave his characteristic half-smile and cast another quick look at the Forger's back before continuing. "She's got spunk. I saw her bite one of them in the hand and try to run."

Ariadne could not help the smile twitching on her lips either, but quickly grow serious again. "We better hurry then."

The Point Man nodded and they turned to watch Eames check the magazine of another weapon. Both were pretty sure he had heard every word, but the only indication he had was in the ferocity with which he slammed it back in place.

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><p><em> TBC <em>

_Eames is not all that much fun in this story I suppose, but I just believe that he would not be in the mood for any witty banter in this situation. _

_Also am always grateful for reviews! _


	5. Chapter 5

_I am so sorry for the late update, but life has a way of just surprising you every turn (in a good way this time ;) ) Hopefully you can enjoy this chapter anyway. (**disclaimer** as in earlier chapters)_

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><p>The plan was quite simple. They expected Eames. They did not expect him to have back up. It was an obvious trap set up for him, but him alone. They were counting on that.<p>

There was no warning for the two men at the front-entrance, before the gun went off twice, felling them one after the other. Eames approached the door with his weapon at the ready and slipped right through the big gate, the CCTV overhead recording his every move.

As soon as he entered the foyer, he had to duck behind a few old dusty crates, when bullets rained down at him. Peaking around his cover, he returned fire, taking out the one thug stupid enough to stand out in the open with ease. He definitely had their attention.

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><p>So when Arthur took out the two guards at the back-entrance with a sniper-rifle from the nearby rooftop, nothing else happened. And when he slipped through a broken window, right behind the man smoking a cigarette while leaning against the wall next to the door to the backroom, he was not spotted because they had not counted on surveillance being needed anymore.<p>

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><p>When the fire stopped, Eames narrowed his eyes where he was crouching behind the crates still. "Had enough already?" He shouted while re-loading the rifle quickly.<p>

"Should have known you're not one for a subtle entrance, Mr. Eames." A voice replied that sounded far too calm for his taste.

"Sorry, don't believe we've met." He turned and peaked around the crates for a clean shot, but saw nothing before he had to duck again, shot taking a piece out of the crates next to him.

"I think we have, actually." The voice replied. "Perhaps once upon a dream?"

"Waverley?" Eames guessed out loud, since it sounded vaguely familiar.

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><p>Elsewhere Arthur snuck up behind the man on his smoke-break and without a sound had him in a chokehold with one hand over his mouth to muffle any noise.<p>

Then with a swift move, something in the man's neck cracked and he collapsed in the Point Man's arms. He glanced through the glass in the door to the backroom and frowned.

He moved further into the building with a quiet curse on his lips.

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><p>"Got it in one." The voice sounded smug and it was grating on his nerves. "Why don't you come out so we can have a little chat?"<p>

"Now why would I do something stupid like that?" The Forger grit out between his teeth not sure the other man even heard him as he took out his handgun, slinging the rifle over his shoulder by the strap.

There was a barely visible flash from a window above him then and he counted two more, then smirked. His back up was here. He was just about to address the man again, when there was a small sound that gave him pause.

It was not much more than a whimper but it carried in the big open space of the warehouse.

His hand froze where he had readied the gun.

"Did you actually think I'd leave my trump-card in the backroom?" The voice taunted again as if the man could see him hesitate.

Another little noise of fear had the Forger close his eyes in an attempt to recompose himself. The grip around his gun turned white-knuckled as he let his head thump back against the crate. Usually he had not problems blocking these things out, but this was a little too personal.

"Ready to come out yet, Mr. Eames?"

He tried to calculate through his options: Arthur was still up there to cover him; at the entrance he could see Ariadne crouch down from his angle, submachine gun at the ready. This would be the first time she got to use it in reality.

Their eyes met for a split-second and she flashed him a grim smile. Two people for cover were not the best odds, but there had been worse.

The cocking of a gun had the blood in his veins freeze. He had no choice left, he would have to risk it and hope they would not call his bluff right away.

With a clatter, the assault rifle hit the floor beside the set of crates he was hiding behind. No shots answered the sudden movement, so he got to his feet, smaller gun held up by the barrel with the safety on for them to see. He stepped around the barrier, watching the men carefully.

Two on the staircase leading to the upper level and two on either side of the man holding a small shaking body in front of him.

Eames tried not to look, he really did. He needed to stay focused but could not help but notice the limp, greasy strands of chestnut hair and the metal of the gun held to her temple. She was wearing a blindfold.

He swallowed hard; unable to keep the mask he had schooled his features into from wavering.

Directing his gaze at the man holding her, he lowered the gun to the floor and gave it a kick for good measure so it was out of reach. "You've wanted me, now you've got me." He told him carefully.

The man, Waverley, was watching him like a hawk. He was taller than him and had the drawn features of someone who had lost a lot of weight too quickly. His unkempt dark beard was threaded with gray. He also looked uncomfortable in the casual civilian clothes he was wearing.

Eames nodded at the little girl, still in the other man's tight grasp, but never broke eye contact with him. "Let her go."

Waverley gave him a grin that showed too many teeth to be fully sane. "Oh, but she has nowhere to go." He tightened his grip on his hostage's shoulder eliciting another small sound of terror from the girl and the Forger could not stop his gaze from flickering to her face. She was biting her tiny lip to stay quiet.

"So nice of her mum to share her little secret with us. What did you do to piss her off, I wonder?" Waverley continued.

Eames refused to jump to the bait. He had feared something like that. Either she had seen him and made good on her threat to rat him out if he came near her daughter, or she had needed money for reasons he could not fathom. She had probably not understood what she was in for.

Still, the woman had signed her own death warrant and he did not want to think about what she had effectively done to her own daughter. He clenched his jaw, if she had not already paid the price, he would sure have had a word with her himself.

Above him, a short reflection of light brought him back to the moment. Arthur was still in position. He nodded as if acknowledging Waverley's revelation.

They had one shot at this and if the Point Man's signal was anything to go by, it was their only option left. He flexed his hands a little where he kept them by his sides so their opponents would not feel threatened.

From the corner of his eyes he could see Ariadne giving him hand-signals in reply as she crept inside and closer. She would take care of the two left on the staircase. So far no one even knew she was there or about Arthur for that matter.

He straightened up slightly. "Let her go now and you might walk away from this." He addressed Waverley again, face once again expressionless as he looked him in the eye. He really had no intention of letting the man draw breath for much longer, but if there was a chance to get his daughter out of the line of shooting, he could wait.

He so badly wanted to speak to her; she was still shaking like a leaf in the other man's brutal grasp, but knew he needed to keep his cool.

The man looked at him with suspicion, but before he could make a retort, or get to any conclusions, the Forger balled his left hand into a fist, the signal for the others. His other hand pulled out a concealed small gun from its holster under his jacket.

Before he even completed the quick move, glass shattered and Waverley dropped forwards like a puppet with its strings cut. The small girl flinched away as his grasp slipped, avoiding the falling body by a hair's breadth.

Simultaneously, Ariadne felled her two targets, the rattle of her UZI covering his own two quick shots as he took out the remaining two men on either side of the dead man before they could aim properly, too startled by the assault from three sides.

Nonetheless one bullet grazed the side of his thigh, but he ignored the burn of it in the deafening silence that fell.

The little girl had not moved, just stood there shaking and had succeeded in biting her little lip bloody from trying to contain her whimpers.

In an instant, he was by her side. As soon as she felt a presence near her, she started to scream and fight, only growing worse when he did touch her, catching her tiny flailing hands in one of his. "It's me Isa! It's okay. You'll be alright now."

When she stopped fighting, he was not sure if it died down due to the fact that she did recognise his voice, or because she simply grew tired.

Very gently, Eames wrapped a steadying arm around the shaking child and brushed the blindfold off. When he saw her eyes meet his, his stomach dropped. They were shockingly empty. The life in them gone, only fright left and then recognition when she looked at him.

There were no tears, she just huddled closer into his form and he pulled her close, ignoring the dread in his gut when he cradled her tiny shaking body.

He could hear Arthur come down from the catwalk he had used as a sniping position and felt Ariadne step up behind him, but could barely pay them any mind.

"It's okay now. Daddy's got you." He whispered into his daughter's soiled hair, tightening his grip around her a little when she buried her face in his shoulder.

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><p><em>TBC <em>

_The style for this chapter was a little different but it was also action and I wanted it to move quite fast. Hope it worked._


	6. Chapter 6

_Hey there, I watched 'Warrior' this week and I do not understand how it slipped past half the world! I'd watched 'The Fighter' just a few days before it and to be honest it kind of sent me half to sleep whereas 'Warrior' just sort of touched all the right spots in my heart. I felt it was so much more emotional, but I guess that's taste and you can't argue about it. _

_Anyhow it gave me the muse to look over this chapter again and so I finally present an update. Hope you enjoy!_

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><p>"Physically she's fine." The gray-haired man explained, pushing his glasses further up his nose as he spoke. "Psychologically of course is another story entirely. I don't need to mention how traumatising this kind of experience is; especially because she cannot go back to her home, which would mean a safe place. Adjusting to this will be difficult."<p>

Ariadne nodded, eyes flicking to the open door giving her a good view of the single bed in the corner that Isabelle now could call her own. If she would speak that was.

Eames was kneeling beside the bed, eyes never leaving the little girl. She was staring into nothingness, barely aware of her father's hand stroking through her freshly washed hair.

"I would advise to just take a day at a time, children are a lot stronger than we give them credit for so I'm not saying it is impossible for her to recover from this." The doctor continued.

Arthur had dug him up and though she had been sceptical at first, she found herself trusting the man's judgement. She assumed the Point Man had searched specifically for someone who would not frighten the poor little girl more.

"I'd watch out for him though." She snapped back to attention when the man gave a nod in Eames' direction. He had grudgingly allowed them to take care of the graze wound on his leg, but not moved from his daughter's side otherwise.

At Ariadne's questioning look, the doctor gave her a tight smile. "Parents tend to work themselves to the edge of exhaustion in situations like this. It's no help to the child if he collapses of lack of sleep at some point."

The architect, smiled back, though it did not reach her eyes and followed the doctor downstairs to take him to the door. When she closed it behind him, she stood there for a moment, forehead against the cool wood.

"You okay?" A voice behind her made her jump and she found Arthur standing there with two mugs of coffee in his hands. She raised an eyebrow at him.

"Right, stupid question." He pushed the mugs into her hands and shrugged at the look she shot him. "I thought you should take it upstairs."

She nodded with a grateful smile and went for the stairs again, feeling his worried eyes on her back.

The Forger did not acknowledge her when she entered the room, something that troubled her more than anything. Isabelle appeared to finally be asleep, tiny hand clutching one of his to her chest. He had moved to sit on the edge of the mattress.

"Hey." Adriadne gave his shoulder a soft squeeze. Tired gray eyes met hers and his mouth twitched into a semblance of a smile, but did not quite manage. He accepted the mug she handed him, but made no move to drink.

"Talk to me?" She whispered, when she could not bear the ensuing silence any longer. She felt his shoulder heave with a soundless sigh.

"I don't know what to do." His voice was just as low as hers to not disturb the little girl in her sleep. He had turned back to watch her, as if by doing so alone he could keep her safe. "What am I going to do with her?"

"We'll figure something out." She said as she watched him put the untouched mug on the nightstand.

"And how do you suggest we do that? There are still people out for my blood! How can I subject a child to that?" He had not raised his voice, but the low hiss was enough for her to draw back a little, not having expected this.

She should have, of course. She had been wondering the same thing. "We'll think of something. I promise. But this is not the time and place to argue about it."

The aggression drained from his eyes, shoulders slumping heavily in defeat. "I can't do this." The admission came hesitantly and he avoided looking both at her or his daughter as he spoke.

Ariadne noted how he reminded her painfully of a dog waiting for a beating, which struck her even more so because he had a right to be at a loss in a situation like this and who did he take her for that he expected her to berate him for it. However, she needed him to see that there was no way out.

She took a deep breath. "Arthur could always find her a nice home…" She hated herself for carefully saying this, but he needed to understand that there were only these options.

"No!" His eyes snapped up to meet hers again, shocked and realizing belatedly what he had in essence suggested himself.

She bit her lip, but she once again grasped his shoulder, thumb stroking the fabric of his shirt. "I wasn't suggesting he should, but then we need to think of a way of making this work."

Eames stared, eyes searching hers for something she was not sure of. Perhaps it was that he had picked up on the plural, or the need for an answer that he himself did not have right then.

"You know she hasn't said a single word?" He eventually asked resignedly running his fingers through his hair. Apparently that was about as far as they would discuss the matter for now.

"Yes, I know. I spoke to the doctor." She nodded and did not press him. She had long learned that sometimes he would avoid things for a reason and there was no point in forcing him.

"What did he say?" It was distracted, like he did not really care. His hand had found its way back into his pocket, no doubt fiddling with his poker-chip again.

Ariadne thought for a moment. "He said to give her time." She shifted uncomfortably when he still only stared at the poor little girl in the bed. She knew he needed to be alone right now, but she could not help but be worried.

She squeezed the tense muscles in his shoulder again a little more insistent. "Dan?" She breathed.

He looked up at the nickname; gaze perhaps a little more in the present than it was before.

"It will be alright. I promise." She told him, even though she had wanted to say that him worrying over things they could not change did not help things. How could she, when his daughter had been kidnapped and was now only a shell of the girl he had taken her to meet that once and now she had no one except him left to take care of her.

Eames made no reply, just put his free hand over the one she still rested on his shoulder, stroking the back of her hand distractedly before entwining their fingers.

She stayed a little longer, giving him something to hold onto. Then she moved in to press a quick kiss to his scruffy cheek.

"I'll be downstairs." She told him and let go of his hand as she turned for the door. The Forger merely nodded vaguely.

It was only when she was halfway out the door that his voice stopped her. "Ariadne?"

She turned back, finding him looking at her out of eyes which were displaying his feelings much more clearly than usually. The pain she could make out in their depths was overwhelming.

"I…" He caught himself, licked his lips. "Thank you."

The architect blinked, not quite sure what he meant. "So you're glad now I watched your back, hu?" She replied after a while, weakly smirking at him.

This time a small smile did spread over his lips though not to his eyes, allowing the hesitant expression from earlier to disappear. "I am."

She somehow managed to smile back and then left him alone with his sleeping daughter.

In the kitchen, Arthur sat with another mug of coffee, this one almost gone and his laptop open in front of him. Ariadne just managed an acknowledging nod before she slumped into the chair opposite him.

"How is he?" The Point Man asked, pausing in his typing but not looking up.

"Trying to hold it together." She took a sip of her coffee and looked out the window. It was uncharacteristically sunny for March in England.

"I'm trying to trace McAllen down. The warehouse was rented through an agency, but that might be our way to finding him." Arthur noted, barely acknowledging her answer.

She clenched her teeth. There he went, being his usual detached business-self again. "Do you really think it's a good idea to trace him down now?" She asked, taking another sip from her cooling coffee.

"And wait until the leads dry out? No, we have to find him now so we know whether to worry about him or not."

Ariadne tapped her fingers on the tabletop in agitation, but refrained from commenting as long as she could. It was an awkward silence and they both knew it.

"Did you know?" Arthur eventually asked.

She met his eyes with unease. "Yes. I've known since we did that job here a few months ago."

The Point Man nodded, his lips a thin line. He picked up his own mug and drank deeply. It almost made her smile. He always had needed coffee to function.

"What's the plan then? She's got no home anymore." He remarked when he set it back down carefully.

Ariadne dropped her gaze into the mug in front of her and did not answer.

"Are you ready for that?" He prodded gently. He was not being cruel, he just wanted to make sure she knew what she was getting into, she knew that.

"I will be." She eventually said and before he could open his mouth to comment carried on, "You should have seen her before all this."

The architect smiled wistfully. "He wouldn't tell me where he kept disappearing to every other free minute. I just had to dig." She wrapped both hands around her mug, which did nothing to re-warm the cold coffee.

"She was the brightest little girl I have ever met. I can't even begin to think what it must be like for him." The last part was almost a whisper.

Arthur looked a little lost at what to do when her eyes welled up. Eventually he closed the laptop in front of him. "You know, Ari, you surprise me sometimes." He remarked.

She managed to look quizzical despite the held-back tears.

"I used to think you needed protecting, you know. I thought Cobb was right in that we should have let you get back to your studies and made sure you would not get drawn into the business." He continued, "So when you chased after it, the only way I could think to protect you was if you worked with Eames and I."

Her eyes widened a little, because he had never been this blunt before.

"I just never thought you had it in you, to be completely honest. I was convinced once the excitement wore off, the things we do would chase you off." He shook his head, casting her a half-smirk.

"It didn't. I'm seriously impressed with the way you handle yourself. So even though I still don't understand what exactly it is that links the two of you together, I know that you can handle this as well." He picked up the computer and packed it away in a black suitcase by his feet.

"You may think I don't see this kind of thing," She flinched at his remark, because yes she had had similar thoughts only a few minutes ago. "But I can see that he needs you now."

He took a last long gulp from his mug, and then placed it in the sink. "You can stay here as long as you need to. It's taken care of. Just make sure that jackass doesn't do anything stupid. I'll go see if I can dig up McAllen."

Ariadne could only stare as he slung the strap of his bag over his slender shoulder and made to leave. "I'll let you know when I find anything." He threw over his shoulder and then he was out the door, pulling it shut behind him.

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><p>TBC...<p>

_Thoughts? Ideas? Love? Hate?_


	7. Chapter 7

_Thanks for the reviews, guys. See how quick I got this chapter out just for you. (tbh the last few chapters of a story are always the hardest to write for me) I hope you like this and just for references, remember chapter 1? This is after the events there. _

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><p>It had taken a week for the girl to stop flinching when she entered the room. She was still not talking.<p>

The atmosphere in the house probably did little to help.

If Eames was not sitting with Isabelle, he was sorting through the stash of weapons still in the spare bedroom or pacing in the backyard, chain-smoking.

Ariadne could not really fault him on picking up on the habit again. After all the only reason he had given up in the first place had been due to the fact that he had taken a bullet to the lung that one time and so it had not exactly been by choice, even if it had lasted.

The only thing was that it also showed her how hard he was trying to hold it together. For her part, the architect was at a loss at what to do.

It was not that she felt she did not belong. She knew by the way he looked at her that he was glad she was there.

It was that she was not sure how much she knew him anymore. She had known about the things he had done. Or at least most of them, but had never seen him with this kind of simmering rage. She was literally waiting for it to boil over and had to admit it scared her a little.

Maybe he even scared her a little. There had been a time when Arthur had warned her, that she did not know half the things either of them were capable of and though at the time she had simply put it down to him being overprotective, she could not help but wonder.

When she walked into the kitchen, she was confronted with Eames sitting at the table, absentmindedly playing with a switchblade, and though she had seen him handle bigger and more dangerous things, the gleam in his eyes made her a little uneasy.

She put the mug she was carrying into the sink. The amount of coffee she had consumed in the last few days was starting to become ridiculous.

"Arthur still hasn't called, has he?" The question had her turn, only to be met with his rigid back, since he had not bothered to look at her. He was still flipping the knife around.

"No." She crossed her arms over her chest and leant back against the counter. "You run out of guns to clean?" She asked after a brief pause, and that did manage to make him look at her over his shoulder.

The flat look in his eyes was new and a silent warning, but she was not ready to back down. "Do you really think I can't tell that you're about to flip?" She asked.

With a little too much force, he threw the knife on the table and it skittered to a halt just before falling of the edge. "What do you want me to do?"

"For one, stop stalking around like you're about to kill something." She said, her eyes only for a second flicking to the knife again. "It's not doing your little girl any good." Her voice gentled at this.

He still had his back turned to her and just wrecked a hand through his hair.

"Secondly," She hesitated, then approached him, crouching down by the chair so that she could meet his gaze where it was locked on the floor, hands grasping his knees, "tell me what you're planning, 'cause you're scaring me a little right now."

The look he gave her was almost convincing in its bewilderment, but she knew him too long for this by now. When she just returned it steadily, he rolled his eyes. "I'm not planning anything. Not yet anyway."

She was having none of it. "You're gonna go after them, aren't you?"

Perhaps he had seen the anxiety in her eyes, or maybe he was trying to distract her, but she found herself lifted up and pulled into his lap.

"You know me too well." He breathed into her neck as her arms automatically went around him.

Ariadne could not help but sigh. He still underestimated her sometimes. "You weren't going to tell me? Were you just going to run off by yourself?"

When Eames looked up, his eyes were still guarded but apologetic. "Love," He said, in this strange serious tone that she simply could not get used to, "you won't want to see it."

The young architect stared at him for a moment longer, mind cooking up all kinds of horrible scenarios and she could not help the shudder run up her spine at the thought. No, she would not want to see it when he finally let go of all this fury that he was trying so hard to control for now. Yet, swallowing, she never broke eye contact.

"Fine." Her voice sounded a little hoarse but she cleared her throat, "Just be careful." As if to underline her statement, she bent down to kiss him a little more urgently than might be appropriate, but he clearly did not mind.

Two hours later, Arthur called and she went to watch over Isabelle as soon as Eames put the phone down and left for their own personal armoury. They did not exchange a word, nor did they look at each other, otherwise she might have changed her mind. It was hard enough not to insist on coming along as it was.

She woke to hear the door shut quietly. Her neck hurt from where she had clearly fallen asleep in a bad position. No wonder considering she was sitting in a chair.

With a quick glance to the little girl in the bed, sleeping deeply still, she blinked a few times before she was fully awake and got to her feet when she heard steps on the stairs.

Her hand went to the gun she had put on the nightstand just in case, but when she cracked the door open a little, she forgot its weight in her hands at the sight before her.

Eames looked up from halfway up the stairs, a slightly sheepish expression on his blood-smeared face, eyes glassy with something that was not quite satisfaction, but made her uncomfortable in how much it resembled bloodlust wearing off.

There was more blood all over the front of his shirt; his jacket and his hands were covered in the dried crimson too. It had slowly started to flake off.

She had seen this in dreams, had seen it when they ran into tight spots and had to defend themselves, but not like this.

She gave him a look up and down and deemed it to be safe to say that none of it was his but found that not as reassuring as she probably should have. He looked like something crawled out of a horror-film and though her imagination had run away with her a little on what to expect, seeing it in reality was still much more disturbing.

Perhaps what worried her more was that she felt not a shred of sympathy for his victim and instead felt like he got what he deserved.

He avoided her gaze and went into the master bedroom, straight into the en-suite, careful not to smear the door-handles, but not quite succeeding.

For a moment Ariadne stayed frozen, then she followed him, putting the gun down on her own nightstand hesitantly. Dumbly she watched him wash the blood off his hands, then his face, and the red tinged water going down the drain. He caught her eyes through the mirror and for a moment just looked at her.

When he turned and reached for her, she stiffened, but did not move away. Tentatively he wrapped his arms around her, resting his chin on the top of her head.

It took her a moment, since she could still smell the metallic scent of blood on him, but eventually she melted against his form, her own arms coming up to wrap around his waist.

She felt him bury his nose in her hair and clutch at her tighter. "Is she alright?" He mumbled finally.

"As alright as can be." Ariadne found herself say numbly. She pulled away from him a little, so that she could see his face.

Perhaps it was the adrenaline wearing off, but he visibly sagged under her gaze. He looked tired, exhausted really. By now she should have been familiar with the dark circles under his usually sharp eyes and the worry-lines that had not been there before all this.

The architect stroked a hand over his bearded cheek and even found it in herself to smile forlornly up at him. "You should go to bed now." She suggested and really was not surprised when he shook his head.

"I need to see her first." His voice was raspy but unwavering. Yet he let her grasp his hand and lead him out of the bathroom. The thought that only minutes ago they had been covered in blood was decisively pushed from her mind.

She stepped aside once she opened the door to his daughter's room. He made no move to go inside, just stood there watching the little girl sleep and she was sure there was a weak smile on his lips. The child was a lot more peaceful than the first few nights after they had gotten her back.

She felt like this moment should not be shared and made to move away when he leant heavily against the doorframe, but she had barely taken a step, when he looked over his shoulder and met her eyes.

With one last look at his daughter, he reached in to close the door and took her hand again. She felt his fingers tremble as they entwined with hers and frowned at the discovery.

She looked up into muted gray eyes and found that they looked oddly lost. It was scaring her more than the amount of blood his clothes were still covered in.

At first she was not sure what to do, but when she started to lead him back to the other bedroom, he followed her, strangely docile and eyes heavy with sleep already.

When he just sat on the bed, letting go of her hand to rub at his face instead, she tugged at his jacket-sleeve, reminding him of the soiled clothes he still wore. She did not even need to say anything; he shrugged out of it with her help when his movements turned out to be too uncoordinated.

She just left it on the floor, turning back to find him struggling with the buttons of his shirt. In the end he gave up and let out a heavy sigh.

"It's okay." She tried to reassure him and brushing clumsy, shaky fingers away did it for him, with his half-lidded eyes watching her drowsily.

He somehow threw off his shoes by himself, slacks joining the pile on the floor and inched under the covers to lie down, down to nothing but his shorts.

Ariadne hesitated only a second then changed into her pyjamas (one of his shirts) and crawled in next to him.

He was already half-asleep, but still moved closer to her warmth. In response, she wrapped her arms around his broad back, cradling his head as he nuzzled it into her shoulder. She brushed her hand over his hair, but doubted he was even aware of it anymore, breathing deep and even.

"Love you." She whispered and waited for sleep to come to her too.

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><p><em>Somehow this Eames here that I wrote (funnily enough alot of this was written before I saw Warrior but it did inspire me to finish!) is very easy to picture after having seen Tom Hardy in Warrior. Personally I really believe that a Conman, Thief and Forger has a dark side and isn't all charm and wit, so there you go...<em>


	8. Chapter 8

_Right... so here is the conclusion of the story. Thanks to all those who stuck with me till the end of my first multi-chaptered fic for Inception. **Disclaimers** apply as usual._

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><p>"Arthur, you're always welcome to visit, but I'm not having this conversation with you." Ariadne tried valiantly to control her voice since Eames was still dead asleep upstairs, not even shifting at the sound of the doorbell that had had her shoot awake.<p>

"Fine." The Point Man looked down into his coffee mug and she had a strange sense of déjà vu, fingering the totem in the pockets of her sweat-pants. She had quickly thrown them on after opening the door to a tight-faced Arthur with a newspaper in hands.

"I appreciate that you're trying to clean up after…" She gestured vaguely at the article in the paper talking about a man having been slaughtered in a house that appeared to have been the centre of a cocaine-dealing ring. "But I won't hear you treating me like a child anymore. I can handle this."

"I just meant that…" She would not let him finish. "I don't care. I can't and I won't do it."

She caught him looking at something behind her and slumped slightly in her seat before looking over her shoulder to find a bedraggled Eames standing in the doorframe, still only clad in boxers.

The architect had hoped he would get more sleep than this.

" What's goin' on?" The Forger managed, tiredness still seeping through his voice.

Arthur was about to speak, but Ariadne beat him to it. "Arthur is being an asshole, that's what's going on."

The Point Man shot her a withering glare. "I only came here to let you know that McAllen is in the papers and I'm working on covering your tracks but there's a lot of heat."

Though still a little glazed, Eames narrowed his eyes at the younger man. "You wouldn't be here just to tell us that."

Ariadne almost looked triumphant, but Arthur kept his cool and turned to look at her. "Can I talk to Eames alone for a minute?"

"What, so you can convince him?" She crossed her arms, but was stopped short by the Forger's voice.

"Ariadne."

She turned and glared, but then got up. Turning her back on Arthur, she walked out of the room. She only stopped for a moment to look up at Eames and grasped his hand to give it a squeeze.

For the first time in what she felt like forever, she received a smile in return. He bent down to plant a chaste kiss on her lips.

"Check if you lot woke Isa up, would you?" They both knew it was an obvious way of getting her out of the room, but she still went along with it when she saw the look he gave her.

"I'll be back in a few." She smiled back at him and went up the stairs with a last fierce look at a decidedly uncomfortable looking Arthur. Eames did not usually feel the need to mark his territory like this, nor did she. It was setting up a clear united front against him.

Isabelle was still sound asleep. Of course she would be, they had closed the door last night, only leaving theirs open. The little girl looked a little more peaceful, but perhaps Ariadne was simply hoping for too much. She closed the door again quietly.

She hesitated on the landing, but then decided to eaves-drop, since by then their voices had risen in volume enough to be picked up from upstairs.

Silently she crept down the stairs again, keeping out of sight of the doorway.

"Of course I know that, Arthur. What do you take me for?" She made out Eames' drawl even though he still sounded drained.

"A selfish bastard, that's what I take you for." She stopped short at the Point Man's icy reply.

There was a brief pause, as if the Forger felt the same as she did.

"What?" It was flat and revealed far more emotion than it probably had been intended to.

"You heard me." It was Arthur's voice again, sounding more confident. "When I gave you McAllen's location, did I not tell you not to do anything stupid? You went on a freaking rampage! I personally think you should put Isabelle somewhere safe as well and send Ariadne back to Paris while this cools down. You're dragging her into unnecessary danger again!"

Ariadne had also thought about the fact that they needed to keep the little girl safe and that it would be hard considering their line of work, but it was simply cruel to take her from the only vaguely familiar family she had.

It was logical, sure, but Arthur was not usually this cold. He was the one with the rational plans and ideas, but how could he suggest a thing like this?

She felt her fists clench by her sides. So this was what this was about. He was trying to protect her again when he had no right to. And in trying to get to that point, he was prepared to even separate Eames from both her and his own child. She did not, would not understand it.

Ever since the three of them had started working together, the Point Man had quietly been trying to bully her out of the business supposedly for her own safety. When Eames had stepped up to help her in her resistance, the friendly banter between the two men had slowly grown into something more serious.

She had not wanted to admit that it was because of her, had not wanted to realise that it was only human for Arthur to feel this way, to want to protect her at least if nothing else and to do so at all costs.

What disturbed her even more was the silence from Eames' side. She moved closer to the door, ready to stop a fight if the need arose. She was not entirely sure about how she would go about that, but she would cross that bridge when she got to it.

"Didn't play with her before dropping her on the spot, though." She then heard the Brit's quiet reply.

"I had my reasons." Arthur's tone was suddenly more solemn too.

"Sure you did. Did you know she cried at night because she didn't understand why her mentor was abandoning her?" The malice in the words made her flinch. This was her fault. Without her, they would not have this animosity erupt like that between each other.

"I was trying to do the right thing. Something that clearly eludes you."

"You were being a twat, that's what you were doing."

There was a sigh from Arthur and the scrape of a chair. "Alright. You want to get her hurt, be my guest."

Ariadne quickly hid behind a corner when she heard footsteps. She did not want to be seen.

"She's not a child Arthur. I know she told you that before. It's her decision." Eames called after the Point Man who was making his way to the door, his back turned to her hiding place.

As he reached for the door handle, he paused. "Have you even asked her?" Then he left, door closing quietly behind him.

"You can come out now." The Forger's voice was far too worn out for her liking.

She stepped from around the corner to see him standing there, still eyeing the door as if looking for an answer.

"You knew I was there the whole time, didn't you?" She tried to smile, but did not think it worked.

"He did too, I'm sure." Eames rasped, gray eyes finding hers, a question in them.

"I told him to stuff it. We stick together. We can always go somewhere else." Ariadne told him, slowly approaching him, knowing that he had enough on his mind without all this.

"He did have a point, you know. I mucked up, badly. I didn't think about you or Isa at all at the time." The Forger said, looking away and up to the staircase.

"I know." She said, standing right in front of him, but he still did not look at her. She reached out, putting a hand onto his chest, needing the contact. "And at some point I will give you hell for it."

His lips quirked into a smirk of amusement despite the serious matter. "I don't doubt it."

Just as quickly he looked away again, the spark quenched again. At least it had been there. It was a start.

"Do you want me to leave?" She asked to get back to the original subject, knowing the moment had gone.

He looked back at her, startled. "I don't want you to… I want you to be safe, though." He grabbed her hand and pulled her closer to wrap his arms around her.

She kissed him and gave him a smirk that looked a little too familiar to be entirely comfortable to look at. "I can take care of myself." Then it dropped just as quickly, her face growing sombre. "I'll stay as long as you want me to."

When he pulled her into a tight embrace and mumbled a quiet 'I love you' into her hair, she was reassured that this was exactly the right thing to do, no matter if it was entirely safe or not.

* * *

><p>The sky was only just starting to turn from dark blue to a softer gray, but the Forger already found himself outside, on the patio with his second cigarette of the day. He could not stop thinking about Arthur's visit the day before.<p>

Ariadne had barely stirred when he had gotten up, grabbing an undershirt and his shoes. He knew she had been severely disturbed the other night. She had done well at covering it up, but he could see it anyway.

The miniscule piece of a conscience he had tucked away somewhere had reared its ugly head when he was no longer too occupied with hunting down whoever had dared hurt his daughter.

Everything they had done in the two years that he had known the little architect and still it struck him sometimes how stupid he was for getting involved with her. It was not the fact that she was a lot younger than him; it was the fact that he could not help but think that Arthur and Cobb may have been right, that she was not meant for this life.

He had been so sure that it would destroy her more if they sent her cold turkey after drawing her into this world. It was like the other two men wanted to slam the door in her face after giving her a taster.

It had been when she had used everything she could to open that door again, including drawing far too much attention to herself, that he had gotten curious. She was stubborn and far more persistent than any of them would have guessed.

Yet, here he was wondering if what he was doing to her was not far too much to ask. Of course she would not leave, that was her stubborn nature again. But was she not too young to be dragged into the mess of his life?

He took a deep drag from what was left of his cancer-stick before stamping it out and reached for his pocket to take another one but noticed movement from the corner of his eyes.

Turning, he found Isabelle in her soft blue pyjamas watching him through the glass-door. She was barefoot, clutching the small plush dragon Ariadne had bought for her to her chest. Her little hand was on the glass, but made no move to try and open the door.

Her eyes were still void of the life he had come to expect in them during his sparse visits.

He pulled his hand out of his pocket and went back to open the door. "What are you doing out of bed, precious?" He crouched down in front of her, still feeling that knot in his gut when she only stared at him quietly. She would have thrown herself at him before all this.

He reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. It was ruffled from sleep. Not that he would have ever been able to have her around like this without everything that happened. The price had been far too much though.

"Daddy?"

Eames froze and stared at the tears slowly forming in her eyes. She had not cried since they had found her. Of course neither had she spoken.

"Thought you'd left again." She sniffed, clutching up the cuddly toy to hide her face behind it, more like a toddler than a child her own age.

He was still unable to move, only his eyes flicked up at the presence of someone else appearing from the staircase. Ariadne had her arms wrapped around herself and looked decidedly sleepy still, but she had caught what had happened, her tired eyes widening.

The Forger was sure his expression was not much better.

Eventually he found his speech again. "No, darling. I came back." It was almost a croak, his vocal cords struggling with the simple task.

He barely managed to open his arms for her before she was there, stuffed animal and all, trying to dig herself into his embrace. She was sobbing properly now, small wails muffled into the shirt he had thrown on before going out.

Ariadne he could tell was tearing up as well then, her hand going to her mouth as if that would stop the emotions.

Still holding his daughter close, Eames knelt on the kitchen-floor to hold her better. He did not promise her that he would always come back. He knew better than to make promises that would only end up hurting her more.

"It's okay. I'm here now." He tried instead but doubted the child cared what words of comfort he offered, the way she had attached herself to him.

She had spoken again and she was crying. Maybe that was a good sign.

Looking up, he found Ariadne approaching the two of them and she was smiling when she put a soft hand on his shoulder. He did not find it in him to return the smile, but hoped she could see the grateful look he shot her.

Perhaps it was selfish, but he could not send her away because he needed her around. At least for as long as she was willing. Arthur should mind his own bloody business.

* * *

><p><em>There you have it. The end. I felt it was right to leave them there for now. It seemed like the perfect situation to end the story with even though there is clearly more ahead of them all X) Hope you enjoyed!<em>


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